Thursday, August 28, 2008

I'm going through mental pause...

Source: Button I had in High School
Ok, I WORE it in high school. On my peacock blue Miami Vice blazer. It was orange. I still have it. It's hanging in my cubical at work.

I'm losing my mind. I've got some very important meeting notes that I kind of, you know, NEED. For a really important project. I don't have them here at home. I actually asked my boss to see if they were on my desk. He found some other stuff (that it turns out I needed, too) and faxed it to me. Damn, damn, damn. Nothing like delaying a project that, oh yeah, CANNOT ACTUALLY BE DELAYED. Sometimes that happens in healthcare. Friggin' government...except that they help me have a really good job. Eh, I don't have to be fair. Friggin' government.

So, after saying many times this afternoon "I'm losing my mind" it occurred to me I'm not. I'm simply going through mental pause. Like my friend Ken. I always think of him when I think of mental pauses. He's one long mental pause. He had THAT one coming, trust me.

I just had a shoegasm! Maybe two...

If you need shoes and live in Seattle? Go to the Nordstroms at Northgate and find Margarita. I won't buy shoes from anyone from her. I bought some $8 flats from Old Navy's website, but even she thought that was a steal. I've been buying from her for 3 or 4 years. The first time I bought from her, I'd been dismissed by another sales person an hour or so before and was feeling very dejected (it happens every other shopping trip). She got permission to take me down to the Size 11 shoe area (down in the pits of hell) and let me see every single shoe they had. I bought three pairs. Shoe whore? When I grown up and make $150K a year. But I can't buy anywhere else. No one else carries my size.

Anyway, Chris and Mercedes are having a much belated wedding reception tomorrow night and Mike and I went to find me a new dress and shoes. TERRIFIC dress that looks very similar to this but cost a lot more. And Mike made me pay full price because he said it was a WOW. He's right. It looks WAY better on me than in that picture. So I went off to see Margarita who is always SUPER busy even when other sales people are twiddling their thumbs. I showed her the dress and she brought out Enzo Angiolini 'Serious' Slingback Pump. I think I wept. I shoegasmed. Vavavoom! They're being stretched a tiny bit in the toes, and I'm praying I don't fall on my butt, though no one will be surprised if I do. As Deborah taught me to say, DAYUM.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

What's wrong with comparing apples to VW Beetles??

My friend and former roomie, Philbert, works for NOAA. He's out here from DC to listen to boring presentations out at Sand Point. We went out to dinner tonight and after we got done with our mutual admiration society in the arena of presidential politics, we eventually turned to the idiosyncracies of his superiors. It would turn out that he and his coworkers were given a very interesting assignment in rankings that was like, well, comparing apples to VW Beetles. Our tax dollars at work!

Monday, August 25, 2008

Remind me why we should care?

I don't think the Democratic Convention has mattered since 1988 when Jesse Jackson handed his delegates to Michael Dukakis. Now it's just a bunch of back patting and well, snarkier terms for back patting. I wasn't an Obama fan to begin with, but I'm so disgusted now that I'm ready to vote for Donald Duck. How exactly does the "Candidate of Change" pick a 6-term Senator? When I told Chris that Biden was the chosen one, he looked at me and said "The one with the plagarism scandal???" Yeah, turns out that's why he dropped out of the 1988 race. Great.

Whatever. I can't believe I'm one of the disaffected that I used to pity. Washington's all wrapped up. I'll vote, but I'll wonder why. Here's to four more years. I'm not sure it'll be all that different regardless of who wins.

Update: I hope you all know that I LOATHE anonymous commenters. If you're gonna comment, attribute it. I care. I'm not dumb enough to base my opinions on media sound bites, thanks.

My point stands about the convention. It serves no purpose except to spend a lot of Denver's money and bore the crap out of the majority of the electorate. It used to be about choosing a candidate. He was "chosen" months ago. Don't even get me started about the bullshit that preceded the announcement of Biden. Those that haven't chosen will not be swayed by the convention. They won't chose for a while. They won't be swayed by the convention.

I can't imagine voting for McCain, and even if I did, it wouldn't matter here in Washington because of the Electoral College. The folks I know that are voting for McCain in other states? Trust me, a gun to their head wouldn't get them voting for Obama. And at least one of them knows 37 ways to kill me with a rubber band and a paper clip. The paper clip is only necessary if he's feeling lazy.

I'm not disaffected because I'm listening to the media, thanks. Intelligent, informed, caring people can give up because there doesn't seem to be a point any more at a national level. That doesn't mean there aren't other ways to make a difference, but if you expected this to be an exhaustive dissertaion on political participation, you're obviously not paying attention.

Is this a blessing or is it a curse?

Source: It Just Won't Quit, Meat Loaf's Bat Out of Hell 2
It's definitely a blessing, and it just won't quit. Nor will the various parts of the chorus of this song stop running incessantly through my head. That and Rock and Roll Dreams Come Through. And I'm a happy, happy girl for no external reason. Maybe theres a witch doctor with an office in town...but I'm not looking.

The snark will return tomorrow. I'm pissed about politics.

Friday, August 22, 2008

The Angels had guitars even before they had wings

Source: Rock & Roll Dreams Come Through by Meat Loaf
Yeah, I've branched...Bat Out of Hell 2 is no classic. It's got some good stuff. It's got some stuff I can belt at the top of my lungs. And for a moment realize that he's right...sometimes Rock & Roll dreams do come through...

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

I'll show you how to turn a wrench, buddy.

And I quote: "Call me a skeptic, but you don't strike me as the wrench-turning type." The Bastard Neil has a lot of friggin' chutzpah making that kind of assumption. Just because I've never BOTHERED to own a car old enough that I could actually change the oil (or actually cared enough to spend my time doing it), doesn't mean I'm not willing and/or able should the need arise. Should the need arise to say, disassemble a mechanical bull and reassemble it in Neil's bedroom with a surprising likeness of John Travolta perched atop, I'm just the redhead to help pull it off. But what sort of assumptions does one expect from a guy who asks "What does RTFM mean?" and is then pedantic enough to tell me it's not actually an acronym, it's simply initials.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Is it richer than diamonds or just a little cheaper than spit?

Source: It Just Won't Quit, Meat Loaf's Bat Out of Hell 2

Ok, it's still one of those days...I'm in a belting kinda place. Karaoke on Saturday. The place we go for Karaoke is good and bad. It's a little spot with cheap drinks and usually not a ton of people. So, in two and a half hours on Saturday night I got to sing two or three solos and two duets. Bad side? The song book SUCKS! Not a SINGLE song by Survivor. And the Sweet Child O' Mine CD? Broken. Oh well.

Anyway, I'm going with slightly more expensive than spit at the moment. Slightly.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Michael Phelps can kick Chuck Norris's ASS!

So, Michael Phelps won 8 gold medals. He broke the record set by Mark Spitz in 1972. He's got 14 gold medals now. He's only 23. Ok, so he needs to be shot.

BUT. Ron Judd points that Michael Phelps had to do a lot more than we realize to win those gold medals. Really, I never liked Chuck Norris. Give me Lee Marvin ANY day.

Rainy Days and Mondays...oooh look, it's both!

We need the rain as it's been "hot" here...ok, it DID get into the 90s for a couple of days, but the humidity was pretty low (50s). My tomatoes will be very happy.

However, we're having thunder and lightning. That always weirds me out here. It happens a couple of times a year, and it ALWAYS catches me by surprise. My hometown (Tampa) is the lightning capitol of the Western hemisphere, so I'm familiar with the phenomenon. Just not here.

Friday, August 15, 2008

The Constitution doesn't poll very well

Source: Summary of Former Congressman Harold Ford's comments at the recent Netroots Nation confrerence
I like this comment. Not just because I'm in the middle of rewatching the 4th season of The West Wing and it sounds like something Josh would say.

I woke up yesterday morning to find a comment from someone I did not know in my blog. A reader! A reader! So, I did the only imaginable thing, I launched an exhaustive (ok, exhuasting in my pre-caffeinated state) web search to find his identity. dr von drinkensnorten looks like your average sys admin/serial killer with more annoyance at the ennui of the average American liberal than most of us can bother to muster. Go dr von! And, I found this quote on his blog. Turns out he googled for a random lyric...

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Meatloaf is giving me conflicting messages

Source: Comment to Chris about during his brief "I'll be your mental health professional" moment yesterday

Ok, yesterday was an "I need to belt out songs" day. And my ultimate sing along album is Meatloaf's 1977 Bat out of Hell featuring songs by Jim Steinman. Mock away, Bastard Neil, I can take it. But here is the gist of the songs on this album in order:

1. I love you, but I love my motorcycle more, so let's make it tonight
2. We're making it on the beach, I love you, and I was about to tell you, but you said it first
3. Ok, I have no idea, because "Heaven Can Wait" is not beltable. Apparently Jim Steinman has a thing for Warren Beatty movies.
4. I was a great football player, damn I was horny, but I really don't know why you're in this song
5. Let's make it, but it doesn't mean I love you.
6. I said I love you to get into your pants, I married you, but now I'm hoping the world ends, because getting into your pants was SO not worth it.
7. I don't know that I've EVER listened to this song, so whatever.

So, after playing this album 6 or 8 times in a row over 2 days, I switched. All I can say about this has already been said to Chris: "I'm currently drawing inspiration from Culture Club's 1983 Colour by cannot be expected to be rational whilst listening to Boy George."

Really? 1983? Huh. Karma Karma Karma Karma Karma that bitch wouldn't have been lynched on a 1800s Mississippi steam boat.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Too much tequila or not quite enough...

Source: Semi-True Stories, Jimmy Buffett

This is perhaps my favorite Jimmy Buffett song of all time, and that's saying a LOT. It's a reminiscence of a particular event where he was telling a woman his feelings in a most adolescent way, but he admits that the details have changed over the years. Probably not the part about having too much tequila or not quite enough in his system. It doesn't make it any less true to him and maybe even more dear.

We all have those stories. They all change over time and they're never any less true. We all know couples who have terrific times bickering over the details. He sings fun songs, drinking songs, songs that make you laugh and cry. And this is my favorite.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

I'm not considered dangerous, just annoying

Fearless Fourteen, Janet Evanovich

The new Stephanie Plum novel is out. It hasn't gotten great reviews, but whatever. It amuses me, and it's terrific brain candy.

Monday, August 11, 2008

Watch this Space

Mom's husband, Shane doesn't have much longer. He's about to go into kidney and liver failure. She got on a plane at 8:30 last night. So, I'm headed down soon to help out. Life's frazzled here.

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

I don't want to smell the birds or hear the flowers now that I think of it

This references two comments, really. When we were walking home from our neighborhood's Night Out Against Crime potluck last night, we walked very close to what I think was night blooming jasmine that made me wretch. Super sweet flowers have that effect on me. I made the comment "I love flowers, I just don't want to smell them." This is true of most flowers. They just induce varying degrees of discomfort.

Then, as Mike and I were getting into bed, I asked him to close the windows before he left for work. Since the sun still rises in the middle of the night (around 4:30 a.m.) around here, the birds get an EARLY start in their singing. Waking me up. So, I usually get up in a groggy state and close the windows. I made the comment "I don't wanna hear the damned birds and I don't want to smell the flowers." Then I said "I don't want to smell the birds or hear the flowers now that I think of it".

Monday, August 04, 2008

I worry when a suspect has extra alibis

Source: The Closer

Come on, detective. All the best suspects come prepared with extra cards for bail bonds folks (gotta check for the best price), snacks for long interrogations...extra excuses.

Fear of fish judging me...

Source: Misheard quote from Grant on the MythBusters Shark Week Special 2
Ok, apparently the quote is actually "It combines my fears of open water and fish touching me." Or so says my mom and Mike. But I heard "fish judging me" and frankly that's a WHOLE lot funnier, even if their version makes more sense. Grant was being put out into the water of Carribean as part of an experiement to see if "playing dead" is a more effective way to avoid being eaten by sharks in the open water. Seems it is, but that didn't make it any easier on poor Grant.

Friday, August 01, 2008

You can dress a duck up and name him fido, but that doesn't make him a ham sandwich

Source: Completely random comment by Debi months ago

No, it didn't make any more sense then. It's in the same category as "Never staple a small dog to your chest and run down Dale Mabry naked screaming 'F*ck me, F*ck me, I'm Oprah Winfrey's twin sister." That was something my dear friend Dan came up with our Senior year at T.R. Robinson High School. He wrote it in my memory book.

And I now return you to your regularly scheduled lives. Poor bastards.